


Take a Knee

by thefrenchmistake



Series: And the World is Killing Us Both [2]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Because of Reasons, Dom/sub, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rare Pairings, Smut, Spoilers for Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrenchmistake/pseuds/thefrenchmistake
Summary: She doesn’t really know how any of it happened, really, but now that she’s feeling Troy’s hands slip under her shirt and forces her tongue in his mouth to hear him groan again, she knows it isn’t right, she just doesn’t really know why
Relationships: Alicia Clark/Troy Otto
Series: And the World is Killing Us Both [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616434
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Take a Knee

She would’ve said it was a mistake, if she believed it.

This isn’t right, Alicia thinks.

No, it isn’t right. She doesn’t really know how any of it happened, really, but now that she’s feeling Troy’s hands slip under her shirt and forces her tongue in his mouth to hear him groan again, she knows it isn’t right, she just doesn’t really know why (he is a bad person, he is a bad person, he is… why ?)

Why did she choose him again ?

It’s definitely not because there is a weird connection between the two of them; it’s not like she feels a deep understanding of some parts of him; it’s not like sometimes (rarely) they talk and suddenly she realizes he _gets_ her, in a way very few people have during her life. No, no. It’s not any of those things. It’s because she needs a stress relief, and he’s, for lack of better word, smoking hot.

It’s all it is. Stress relief.

And as she’s discovering, Troy is a very good kisser (not that she thought about kissing him. Nope. Never.) and his hands are really warm and…

He bites her lower lip and her brain shuts down.

Her hands came up to his hair before they even entered the room, so she lets herself enjoy the feeling of the curls under her fingers and of his mouth chasing the taste of mint on her tongue (they have gums here) before she lowers them on his neck, pulling him closer, and then to his shoulders.

When she digs her fingers into his back he hisses, hands gripping her waist tighter. She chuckles lowly, but then he simply grips her thighs and hauls her up without a damn effort.

She rocks against his waist, earning a groan from him, and they keep kissing until an idea pops in her head and she whispers in his mouth, almost incomprehensible : 

“Put me down.”

Her feet touch the ground at the same time she tears her mouth from his and kisses his neck.

He makes a choked sound.

She smiles.

Alicia leaves a trail of burning spots in her wake, and he trembles a bit under her. His hand sneaks in her hair encouragingly and scratches her skull, and she leans into his touch, interrupting her path on his skin.

“You like that ?” He chuckles and she hums.

When was the last time someone touched her like this, all affection and warmth ?

And to think this comes from Troy fucking Otto. What a joke her life has become.

He distracts her for a while, and it feels so good, his hand in her hair and his body so close without anything to rush them. This is a moment like they don’t get, nowadays. It’s a moment of comfort and peace, away from the world and its expectations and the goddamn zombies going after them.

Alicia allows herself to relax in his hands, even to smile a bit.

He pecks her lips, and she remembers what she wanted to do. She pulls back from him, ignores his protestation, and stares. His lips are swollen, his eyes gleam, and she wants to pass her hands in his curls again to make them even more disheveled and rattle that smooth exterior he tries to define himself by.

It’s unfair that the world made him so beautiful amidst so much horror, despite his rotten core (but is it rotten, truly ?).

He is used to being obeyed, isn’t he ? He is used to barking orders and insults like a madman and not one person lifting a finger to stop him from doing what he wants.

Until she came along.

“You wanna get on your knees ?”

Her voice isn’t soft, doesn’t hold the tone of a question. He looks at her, assessing, and she awaits the snapping, the scoff, the outrageous outburst; it doesn’t come.

Of course it doesn’t come.

That’s all he’s ever wanted, all he wants, to be appreciated, to be praised, to be _good_. Despite the facade he puts on and the masquerade he plays each day, he craves approval.

So no, he doesn’t defend himself, doesn’t bite back.

Instead, he lowers his body, eyes intent on her face; one knee touches the ground, then the other.Alicia should get everything she wants, Troy thinks, everything this world has to give; and so, if she wants him on his knees, he’ll give that to her.

Damn, if she wants to put a bullet in his head, he won’t stop her (sometimes he wishes for it).

Her breath catches in her throat at the sight.

She doesn’t know what she has done to deserve this kind of intimacy he entrusts her with, but then again, the same could be said for her. What has he done, exactly, that could make her trust him with her body, with her pain ?

She doesn’t exactly know.

All she knows is that she’s never felt as powerful as she does now, bringing this man to his knees and circling around him like a predator.

She appreciates the set of his shoulders, the shirt that embraces perfectly the lean shape of his body, the slight bow of his neck to show submission.

Alicia shudders because goddamn, nothing could’ve prepared her for this. She comes before him, putting two fingers under his chin to make him look up at her. His eyes shine in the dark, the bluest she’s ever seen (the cruelest, sometimes), the ring around the pupils akin to the ring of black holes and galaxies she used to watch photographies of, before.

Scarily, she is fascinated by it. She doesn’t know how much time she leaves him in this position while she enjoys both the sight and the wait, feeling impatient yet wanting to make this last just a little longer.

Troy doesn’t budge.

He doesn’t move either when she lets her right hand press on his neck, almost affectionate, and her thumb digs in his tense muscles.

“ _I’m not a bad person_ ”. Yeah, fucking right.

Maybe it had some truth to it though. He isn’t a good person, that’s a given; but he might not be such a bad one. At least she hopes so, otherwise she’s doing something really, really bad.

She hesitates, biting her lip; she is not used to this, not at all.

She wants to get used to it though.

“Go on,” he urges her.

His hands have come up to her thighs, not pulling her in, just holding almost deferentially. The moonlight hits his face, dances between the shadows on his skin, and she is taken back to the museum where Greek Gods stared her down and where their tragedies (not hers) displayed before her eyes, carved in marble.

It’s crazy that such beauty encompasses so much darkness and hatred.

“Go on, uh ?” He breathes again, squeezing her thighs.

Alicia pulls at his hair a little, and Troy lets out a low, choked sound that she would like the whole world to hear - it makes him more human, less of a goddamn monster.

It make her hot all over.

“Good boy,” she smirks.

A glare is her answer but she can see his jaw work as he gulps and so she takes his chin between her fingers and forces him to look her in the eye.

His irises are dark, reduced to a shade of their normal color and yet they get more intense as she moves her face closer, because suddenly she wants to make him believe what she says, wants him to see he can be better.

“Good boy,” she whispers against his lips.

He shifts on his knees, his eyelashes flutter. Maybe he wants to believe it as well.

Alicia kisses him.

She intends it to be quick but he kisses back a little forcefully and she gets lost in it. It gets a bit sloppy, hot and dirty until something akin to a moan escapes him and she shakes herself. She pulls back, short on breath.

“Take your shirt off.”

“You don’t wanna do it ?” He teases, but it’s strained and he clears his throat right after, trying to regain his composure.

“I prefer to enjoy the show.”

Troy snorts, but obliges. His hands take the hem of his shirt and in two seconds, the material lays on the ground. She forces herself to stay where she is and enjoy the view for a while.

And God, what a view.

It’s not even his chiseled chest, the determination of his muscles and the scars that lay there, witnesses of the violence that characterizes his life. It’s more the moonlight, the contrast with his torso and face, his body and his behavior. While his whole frame and appearance testify of a turmoiled soul and a bloodlust, he stays on his knees, relaxed and even awaiting her lead.

She blinks back tears, in total opposition to the fire in her belly.

There is just something about him now, in the night, on his knees before her, giving her a huge part of himself and a trust she doesn’t know she is deserving of, that moves her to her core.

So she gets closer, lets her fingers trail up his arms, on his shoulders and neck, before her right forefinger and middle finger touch his mouth and yeah, she’s got another craving right now.

“Open your mouth,” she orders and he does, God, he does without a second thought.

She lets her fingers press on his lower lip a bit more forcefully, and then his tongue curls around them and she has to bite her lip because this… This is a lot. He is looking her right in the eye and she can’t look away, the galaxy burning in his irises, his pupil the black hole swallowing her. She understands, suddenly, the intense fascination of the world from before with the cosmos and what it encompassed, with dying stars and ancient planets.

“Belt,” she says, and fuck she’s breathless but how could she not be when he looks up at her like that, eyes hooded and lost while his hands execute her orders and slowly take off his belt ?

How could she think properly when he does that on his knees for her ?

He literally takes her fucking breath away, and it’s not fair, because he’s not someone she can - wants to- be with, but he burns her insides and makes her shudder under his gaze.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna use it to tie me up ?” He taunts, and she has to pull on his hair, making him hiss, to remind him who exactly is in charge.

The sound of leather slowly being drawn through the loops makes her squirm on her feet, and she can’t really stay in place so she rounds him again, getting flush against his back. He pushes his head back between her breasts, exhaling slowly through his nose when the ends of her hair come tease the skin of his torso and arms, when she leans in.

“We’ll see.”

The clinking of the belt when it lands on the floor makes her hum with satisfaction, the sound reverberating in his head where it still leans on her breasts.

“Satisfied ?”

“Not yet. You’re wearing too much clothes.”

“Whose fault is that ?”

She tsks to make him shut up, fingers threading lightly through his hair while his own come to the button of his jeans, popping it open before gripping the zipper.

“Wait.”

His movements stop instantly, and she pushes back the wonder she feels at his immediate compliance to smile a bit.

“Beg,” she orders, and finds out she means it.

She wants to watch him come undone, wants to watch his facade of a monster crumble and crash down so she can see the man underneath in all his thorny pain and raging guilt. He clenches his jaw hard, his breath hitches and she shivers, skin tingling. Her fingers press on his neck gently, massaging long enough and gentle enough for his eyes to flutter, for his body to relax a bit. And then she lowers her lips to his ear and whispers:

“Beg.”

He shudders.

“Come on, Troy.”

“Please,” he breathes, chin lowered on his chest. She smiles victoriously against his shoulder.

“What was that ?”

“Please, Alicia,” he gags and that’s it, this is the beginning of his redemption, isn’t it ? It can be.

“Ok,” she agrees, going around his kneeling form to stand in front of him. “Ok. You can take my clothes off now.”

His arms tremble slightly when he raises them to grip her hips, bring her closer. He kisses the place just below her navel, warm breath hitting the skin above her waistband, before his fingers make quick work of her button.

He sends her a sly look, cheeky, cocky, and all the synonyms, and then he takes her zipper between his teeth and slowly drags it down.

Shimmying out of her jeans, she revels in the way his breath leaves his lungs heavily, and the fact that his hands don’t move again to touch her even though she knows he’s dying to.

The scorching craving in his eyes speaks for itself.

She almost feels privileged. Then she remembers he’s the one on his knees looking at her like she’s everything he could ever want and he’ll do whatever it takes to please her, keep her right here.

The realization that, if she wants, she can leave him here on his knees and he probably won’t even object, makes her bite her tongue as warmth pools in her lowers stomach.

She changes her mind.

“Stand up.”

He unfolds his limbs slowly, and then he’s towering over her but she still is the one in control (and isn’t that thrilling, this trust that binds them when nothing else does ?)

“Get on the bed.”

Once more, there is only compliance in his behavior, and just a hint of impatience.

Alicia picks up the belt, smiling at his sharp inhale, and she doesn’t even have to order him around. Troy raises his arms so she simply has to wrap the belt around both his wrists, then attach it to the bed frame (it’s so easy, but the ritual of it, the preparation makes them both squirm and grit their teeth not to yield).

“Well, isn’t that a pretty sight.”

“Yeah,” he barks out, “you said that already. Care to actually do something ?”

She lets her hair brush his collarbone when she leans over him, lets him get a good view at her chest, and if his snapping is any indication, he is on the fucking edge.

“My my,” she smirks, “someone is eager. Eagerness isn’t good, Troy, is it ?”

“Alicia, I swear…”

“I guess I’ll just have to teach you to be patient then.”

“I am” he snaps, fists straining against the belt even as he begged for it minutes ago.

She likes it, the duality of his character, refusing the things that would make him feel good. Alicia intends to give him those things, and better yet to teach him he can get those things himself.

“Not enough, apparently.”

She leans back, all the way out of his reach, blatantly ignoring his little whine, and stares right at him.

What a pretty sight, indeed.

Without breaking eye contact, she undoes her bra, letting the straps slide down her shoulders until it is useless and she throws it aside, enjoying the helplessness in the way he looks at her.

She takes longer for her underwear.

She takes her time. She looks at him squirm and lose his breath when she lets her fingers down to do the things Troy’s usually do, when she bites her lip and moans and he loses control over his mouth, when her eyes glaze over and his voice keeps praising her dirtily until she tumbles over the edge. His gaze trails the sweat between her heaving breasts, the place where her fingers still move gently, her trembling thighs.

When she has come down a little and she can actually focus, she sends him a smirk, getting up on her buckling legs to go around the bed and crouch next to his head. She lets her gaze roam his restrained body appreciatively, her fingers still damp caressing his jaw.

Troy is almost glistening, and she hasn’t even touched him yet.

“Learned your lesson ?”

He nods once.

She places a kiss the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and crawls back up on the bed, bracketing his torso so she’s just a few inches away.

She clenches her thighs.

He jerks up.

The tension in his biceps is visible from where she is, and she plays with him by letting her fingers trail on the muscles, the harsh lines from his wrists to his shoulder.

Troy jerks up under her again, and she laughs.

“Just fucking come here already.”

“Mmmh,” she breathes.

But she would be lying if she said it didn’t send a new wave of heat through her.

“Why ? I’m pretty good here, on my own.”

“Fuck,” he strains, “Alicia, _please_.”

“Alright, yeah,” she says, breathless, as she scrambles higher up, towards his mouth. She straddles his shoulders, looks down; him underneath her like that is the sexiest thing she’s ever been gifted to witness.

She unties his hands and brings them to her thighs so he can support her and have freedom over his movements, and his grip is hard on her now that he is finally allowed to touch.

“Hey,” she whispers.

He grins cheekily, hooded eyes and branding fingers digging in her thighs.

“Hey. Comfortable up there ?”

Wiggling a little bit, she can’t contain her smile as he groans.

“Yeah, pretty comfortable.”

“Ok, enough talk. Come here.”

Alicia bends her neck uncomfortably so she can kiss him. His tongue immediately slips pas her lips, warm and dirty, devouring her.

When he pulls back, it’s to whisper in a hot breath :

“Want me to kiss your cunt like that ?”

Alicia whines, nodding frantically, before he lowers his left hand to her ass and drags her forward.

“Tap three times if you need to breathe, ok ?” She indicates, her fingers on his resting against her thigh. He rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother with a response as he pulls her down.

And yeah, she couldn’t agree more with no talking.

Her hands fly to the wooden head board at the first flick of his tongue and she knows it won’t last long.

She bites her cheek, which spurs Troy on; he always makes it his mission to draw everything he can from her, tearing her breath out in needy whimpers or almost painful cries.

This time is no exception. 

It’s obscene, the things he can do to her, the sounds she hears come out of her mouth. It’s dirty and so good there’s no stopping it, not until she’s shaking all over and comes, ripples of pleasure knocking her off him.

The belt buckle finds its place on his wrists once again without any objection, just a happy humming on his part as he presses his lips to the inside of her thigh. While she catches her breath, she lets her body slide down his, and then his smug smile is wiped off when she positions herself above him, entirely too content with herself. The room seems to catch fire under his gaze as she lowers herself on him, and the flames lick at skin through Troy’s rough moan.

She slaps her hand on his mouth, the flash of frustration and arousal in his eyes not going unnoticed.

Alicia smirks.

His hips buck up, and her smile falls.

“Fuck, Troy..” she hisses.

She pushes up before sliding down again, breath hitching in her throat, and once they find a rhythm, there’s no teasing and taunting left, just their chests heaving and swelling up until they can’t fight the moans and the strangled curses because this is so good, when nothing else outside is, but this is theirs and good and beautiful and they won’t let the world take this away from them.

She almost collapses on him when they’ve reached their peak stumbling and praising and cursing to all the things they don’t believe in anymore. She forces her heavy body to sit up so she can look at his damp curls and sagged shoulders, and Alicia almost laughs at the overwhelmed sight.

“You good ?”

His incredibly blue eyes strike her, not glazed over like she expected, but intense and piercing.

“Get those off,” he groans, jerking his arms strenuously, and she obeys.

“You sure you don’t want them to stay ?” Alicia taunts, but her fingers are already untying the knots shakily.

Troy snorts, lets a sigh of relief once he can bring his arms down and wrap them around her waist.

“Next time, you get tied up and I get to torture you.”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t like it.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it ?”

He doesn’t answer, simply swaps their places so he can hover above her.

Rolling his shoulders -which is just for show, she’s sure, as it sends a new warmth down her body-, Troy bends down, trailing his nose down the side of her face, lips brushing her skin like the absence of a lover, and Alicia feels sad, all of a sudden, even if she does not allow it to linger. She tightens her hold around his neck and breathes.

A few hours later, they’ll both be outside fighting to survive, and maybe this will bring them something akin to solace, something soft and warm in a different way from the burning, threatening sun.

The memories won’t stop the hammer from crashing into his skull, won’t stop the blood pouring from his temple, won’t stop her tears and her bitterness.

But for now, they stay tucked under the covers despite the heat, between laughter and hungry kisses and entirely too much denial and provocations, for now they wrap themselves in a blanket of ephemeral joy and they forget.

**Author's Note:**

> This was entirely pointless and totally gratuitous, but I love them and there's not enough smut with Daniel Sharman out there.   
> Thank you for reading, please comment so I know I'm not the only desperate one shipping these two !


End file.
